Sarah's Duke: and Ellie's Gentleman (The heir and the spare, book 1) by Fiona Miers Page B

knuckles making her smile. What a gentleman!
    A strangled sound in the entrance of the opera box had them both turning. Oliver stood in the entrance with a look on his face that made Sarah cower. He looked furious. John held tightly onto her fingers when she tried to withdraw them and drew her hand onto his arm.
    “Good evening, Oliver, have you come to join our small group?” John was obviously ignoring Oliver’s scowl and the tightening of his fists, but she certainly couldn’t.
    Sarah dug her fingers into John’s arm as the flutters of panic rose in her, but he stroked her fingers reassuringly. Oliver looked ready to murder someone. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, but she knew that look was focused on her and John. He couldn’t be jealous, could he?
    When he didn’t reply, Sarah gathered her courage and slipped her hand from John’s arm and dropped into her lowest curtsy.
    “Your Grace,” she said, coming up so slowly that Oliver had time to walk over to her and impatiently tap his black leather boot against the carpet, before her eyes came up to his.
    “You look well considering you have been ill for a week.”
    Charlotte gasped beside her and Sarah’s eyebrows rose. What sort of gentleman said something like that to a lady?
    “I apologize, Miss Collins, for my rudeness. I was just shocked to see you looking so well.”
    Sarah closed her gaping mouth and nodded slowly. Was she supposed to say something to that?
    Oliver ground his teeth together. “Well?”
    “Well?” she repeated with a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. “Well, how are you here, looking so well?”
    Oliver’s eyes widened in surprise, then a muscle in his jaw jumped, indicating he was clenching his teeth again.
    “I wasn’t really sick your grace,” Sarah whispered in a conspirator tone.
    “No?” he whispered back, his face softening.
    “No, I was just having a week away from the circuit. I can see why you and your counterparts never attend balls,” she slid her eyes over to John to include him in the conversation. “They are just exhausting.” Sarah let out an exaggerated sigh and John chuckled.
    “Well, it seems that the rest did you good. You are glowing tonight.” said Oliver.
    Sarah frowned at him. What was he doing now? He’d come in to the box like a thundercloud, she’d chided him out of his bad mood and now he was complimenting her? The man appeared to be as changeable in moods as her capricious Aunt Eustacia. Her aunt was a character of extremes and Sarah sincerely hoped that this would not be the case with Oliver, as this would make him less than pleasant company in the long term.
    “Shall we sit down, my lord?” Sarah asked, using John’s name intentionally and turning towards him.  “I believe the opera is about to start and I would not want to miss any of it.”
    John smirked and held out his arm again.
    “Shall we see you at the interval, Oliver?” John asked Oliver with a raised eyebrow.
    “If you do not mind, I might stay here. My mother tends to snore through the second half.”
    A shiver danced along Sarah’s spine. How would she relax with him here?
    ****
    Intermission arrived and Lord John and Lady Charlotte both made excuses to leave the box. Sarah watched Oliver carefully when they asked if she’d like to join them and he didn’t move. So right or wrong, she chose to stay.
    She was a little surprised that her friends left them alone unchaperoned, but it was an open box, people could clearly see them and the lights were on.
    The minute they were alone, Oliver moved into the empty seat beside her.
    “So tell me the real reason you stayed at home for the past week.”
    “Your Grace, I do not believe that topic is in the realm of polite conversation. Shall we discuss the opera or would you like to talk about the weather?” Sarah asked, with a deliberately false flutter of her eyelashes.
    Sarah knew Oliver was a duke but he was acting like one of her five-year-old cousins. He had the